Characters birthdays
by georgiporgiepuddingandpie
Summary: I got the idea on my 18th birthday as I share my birthday with Percy Weasley that as his 18th birthday fell on the Quidditch World Cup final and there's no mention of any kind of celebration by the Weasley's which is kind of sad, that I should write about his 18th!


**22****nd**** August 1994-Percy Ignatius Weasley turns 18!**

Maybe, just maybe, this year there won't be a fuss. The twins have been cooped up in their room making bangs, chances are they won't remember and there won't be a repeat of the indoor fireworks fiasco of last year where the cat got a nasty shock and a bald patch. Mother's… well mother, making a fuss about everything but one can hope that she's preoccupied with the twins. Father wouldn't know what day of the week it is if mother didn't tell him. Bill's been busy curse-breaking in Egypt, chances are he won't have had time to do anything before rushing home to come to the Quidditch World cup. Charlie, it's practically the same story with him, busy gallivanting Romania with his dragons and returning to watch Quidditch. Ron is busy with his friends, Harry and Hermione, so again chances are my birthday has slipped his mind. Ginny, Ginny's the most likely to have remembered this year if she wasn't such a dewy-eyed school girl over Harry Potter staying with us. The truth I'm probably the only one to remember that I'm 18 today. I don't even like Quidditch that much but I'm being dragged along to watch the World Cup between Bulgaria and Ireland on my birthday.

I was right, they all forgot. Father left early in the morning with the twins, who had tried to smuggle pranked sweets in their clothes, Ron, Harry, Hermione & Ginny. Mother was still fuming about the twins when I left later on with Bill & Charlie, being able to apparate as opposed taking a portkey, so she forgot to wish me a happy birthday before we went. When we got to the campsite, the tents were already up and a fire going, cooking sausages and eggs for lunch. Halfway through that and Ludo Bagman interrupts our lunch, asking for bets, which the twins were stupid enough to bet their entire savings on Ireland winning but Krum catching the Snitch for Bulgaria. And they chucked one of their blastedly ridiculous fake wands in as well. Idiots, sometimes I wonder why I'm related to them. You know who else is an idiot? Bagman. When a colleague goes missing on holiday you send out a search party, regardless of how scatter-brained Bertha Jorkins may or may not be. Luckily I was saved by all the idiocy by the arrival of my boss. The wonderful Mr Crouch, master of over two hundred languages, the kind of man everyone should strive to be like. I was delighted to offer him a cup of tea.

"Oh," he said, looking at me as though he hadn't realised I was there. "Yes – thank you, Weatherby." Which of course Fred and George found highly funny, choking into their own teacups. Nobody's perfect, so what if Mr Crouch can't remember my name exactly? And so what if he didn't know it was my birthday?

"Oh Weatherby, be a dear and make me another cuppa would you?" crowed Fred, or was it George?

"Make that two, Weatherby, thanks!" said the other, smirking. When will the merchandise sellers open their stalls so these two can stop bothering me? But no wait, they gave all their savings to Bagman so they haven't a Knut between them. This is going to be a very long day indeed.

I don't believe it. The twins won their bet. Victor Krum caught the snitch but Ireland had a 160 point lead so the 150 points for catching the snitch did nothing for Bulgaria. Mr Crouch didn't show up for the game, even after sending his elf to save a seat. He's a very busy man you know, I'm surprised he stooped to consider watching such pointless airbourne violence in the first place, I certainly wouldn't have given the choice. And still no indication that anyone has remembered my 18th birthday.

Screaming. Panic. Riots. Death eaters. Violence. The Dark Mark rising once more. My youngest brother and his friends being found at the scene. Harry's wand being used to conjure it. Mr Crouch's elf also being found there. Mr Crouch having to sack his elf for stealing Harry's wand.

Terrible business for all that night, and what a bloody awful way for my forgotten birthday to end.

They never did remember it, we never celebrated. And things were frosty between myself and the family before my nineteenth birthday. Birthdays 18 to 21 weren't celebrated as a family. Forgotten in the excitement of Britain hosting the Quidditch World Cup final, my being fool and idiot, my being a pompous prat, and finally my being a ministry-loving, family-disowning, power-hungry moron, said in the words of my dear late brother Fred.

**A.N. So it's my 18****th**** birthday today, and what would be Percy's 36****th**** birthday so I thought I'd do this quick fic of his 18****th**** birthday, as it was completely skimmed over the fact that it was his birthday on the day of the Quidditch World Cup final! Drop me a review, let me know if you think I should do this for other character's birthdays or something. Also a happy 53****rd**** Birthday to Mark Williams, the actor behind Arthur Weasley xxx**


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